Spoiler alert: this wasn’t my fastest race. In fact, it was probably my longest time for this distance. Yet, it was a great race; I felt strong, persevered, and was surprisingly satisfied despite the numeric result.
Drove over with running buddy Vassilis Bakopoulos, who in contrast with my planning months in advance on doing this, decides the night before to register at the starting line. That’s the beauty of a very local race.
The weather was ideal: 48 degrees, climbing to 52 by the end of the race; cloudy, and I almost didn’t wear my cap (but glad I did – sweat dripped ahead of me, away from my glasses).
I am shooting for, nay, cajoling the universe for a PR. I had done this race in 1:36:24 three years ago (7:21 per mile) and wanted, wanted, wanted to do 1:35:30 (7:17 per mile). Left hamstring/inside of knee had been aching for several weeks, so I was a little concerned that going full out could result in walking 6 ½ miles back home. I might end up with another disappointing result, like the last two NYC Marathons. But I wanted to fly, as best I could.
I put myself about five rows back of the start (edging in front of the people who are edging back, but behind the Serious Competitors who are crowding forward) and we are OFF, beneath the giant American flag and up through the village to the road that goes up, up, up.
The good news is, I was so focused on being in tune with my body as we started that I forgot to start my watch for the first 15 seconds. That felt like a positive mindset.
Plan was to run 20” slower than goal pace the first mile, or high heart rate zone 2/low zone 3 (which was pretty likely, since the course started with 3 miles of up hill…) The groomed trail portion of the race was cut out, because of leftover snow, and I’m fine with that, I didn’t want to be crowded or jockeying for space on the run as well as the starting line. The first mile clicks by at 7:30 – a little fast, but feels okay, and the lead runners are already spreading out in a chain reaching up the hill, and mile 2 is on target at 7:19, terrific, heart rate a little high but manageable.
but mile 3 is steeper (the early macho section of our cycling group’s Sunday ride) and my heart rate is creeping towards zone 4, so that mile 3 is only 7:40, with mile 4 closer to target at 7:25, and can I keep this up, and how am I going to make up that 30-45 second difference (which with my confused math seems like even more)? I don’t have anyone in particular to inspire me (Michael Kaiser from New Jersey, my nemesis and inspiration at my first half marathon here, is gone, gone, gone very early on – he does 3:20 marathons and will run Boston in 3 weeks…),
and I suppose I could choose any of the bunnies ahead of me, but I am also focused on running MY race, and the bunny I am chasing is the 7:17 mile.
So I keep glancing, and if I’m dipping close to 7:30, I kick it up, and just pray – literally – that I can keep this going. Coach Debi said, remember, you’ve never been stronger.
Water stops are few and far between – 3 of ‘em, the whole race – but it’s not very warm, and I can barely drink the sips I grab. I crunch down my EAAs after 40 minutes, but forget to take my second dosage…
So we get to the end of the climb, and start down Route 117 (a four lane highway on most days), and after a rolling uphill, the downhill miles begin. A woman I don’t know, strong and relaxed, passes me and while taking off her outer layer notes, “those first 3 miles were demanding. You know this course?” So I tell her about the upcoming climbs out of corporate parking lots, and the Phelps Hospital portion, the stupid loop near the lighthouse, and the steep climb at the finish line; she thanks me and disappears into the distance…
But I am cranking it, me and my watch are friends today, mostly ignoring the HR monitor (it just freaked me out at the marathon), I frankly can’t believe I’m on task and finding the power to keep cranking it out, and these down hills are beautiful: mile 5 at 7:14, mile 6 at 7:00, then 7:07, 7:15, and 7:25 – okay, my average feels solid, but I know about all the upcoming hills I just talked about.
And suddenly at mile 9 ½, my left calf starts cramping up, enough that I stumble, not fall but stumble, and the right calf joins in (solidarity, don’t you know), and it gets real painful, real fast.
And the uphill at the train station is better than the downhills, but I’ve got 2 ½, 3 miles to go, and I am slowing, slowing: mile 10 at 7:55, mile 11 somehow back on track at 7:17, mile 12 (that stupid loop) in 7:56, and then those last empty streets towards the finish line is 8:02, and the up up up hill to the finish line is at an 8:00 pace… But I have pushed through, I sprinted as best as I could hobble the last 100 yards, I get to the damn finish line, cross one electronic mat, then the other.
Results: 1:39:56. 7:38 per mile. Not my goal, but the best I could do. And I feel good among my peers: 6/43 for age group, 93/720 overall, 74/386 males. And BTW, my Garmin says it was 1,276 feet of climbing.
Maybe I’m rationalizing or making excuses, (seen on a t-shirt during my first NJ Marathon: “The Older I Get, the Faster I Was”), but despite this being the slowest HM I’ve done (32 seconds slower than last year, but with the course change, reportedly 200 more feet of climbing), I feel really good with this performance. It was my maximum effort, and I had fun (though I didn’t enjoy it, if that makes sense); I pushed hard, and harder when I wasn’t hitting my goal, finding the power to get back in the game; and pushing hard as I could at the end, despite the pain and the unlikelihood of getting a PR or making the podium. It was a lot of effort, but worthwhile.
The off season is officially over. Bring it on!